Muse
by SpecialNewsBulletin
Summary: Sometimes inspiration is not so obvious. MAP one shot.


Ginger was helping the Professor tidy up his hut one morning while he worked on an experiment. As she shifted a pile on a table to dust, a few leaves of handmade paper fluttered down to the ground at her feet. He felt his face grow red as she picked them up.

"Professor! I didn't know you were an artist!" she said, picking up the sheets. On them were drawings of various areas on the island, particularly a nice rendering of the hut area. He had been sketching them with pieces of charcoal left over from the bonfire area.

He blushed modestly. "Well, yes, I suppose I do know a little something about perspective and drawing," he replied.

"And - anatomy?" she prompted, fluttering her eyelashes.

The Professor sighed. "Yes, that as well. All part and parcel of drawing."

Ginger's face lit up. "OH! Professor! You have to draw me!" she insisted. "I have ALWAYS wanted to sit for a portrait. Irving Penn photographed me once, but that's not the same as being in a painting or drawing! I feel as if that is so much more authentic. Do you draw people?"

The Professor chuckled a little. "Yes," he said. "I took a few figure drawing classes in college."

"And speaking of figures," she replied, posing gamely, displaying her body. "Oh, can I be your muse?"

"My muse? What on earth are you talking about?" the Professor asked, grinding some petals of a tropical flower with his makeshift mortar and pestle.

Ginger continued to chatter excitedly. "I was in a movie once with Tony Curtis, where I played a beautiful artist's model for a famous painter in Paris, and…" she blushed a little. "Well, the leading man fell in love with the model and he painted her over and over again. I was cast later so I never got to actually sit for the real artist who did them, he just painted from photos."

"Sounds interesting," the Professor said, dumping some distilled water into a bamboo beaker.

She pleaded with him to draw her as a Grecian goddess and he finally relented.

"Alright, Ginger, alright. I'll do it. Go put on your toga and let me finish this. Give me about a half hour."

The movie star clapped, kissed the top of the Professor's head, and tore off to her hut to tell Mary Ann all about her new role: Ginger Grant, Artist's Muse.

-o0o-

Some time later, the castaways gathered around the eating area to find the Professor drawing Ginger, as she held a pineapple. She was sitting very still and wore a regal expression on her face.

"Whatcha guys doing?" asked Gilligan. "You okay, Ginger? You look kind of stiff."

"I'm sitting for a drawing," Ginger said, with clenched teeth.

"Oh, so that's why you weren't helping with the berries," Mary Ann sighed. "I was looking for you all afternoon, Ginger!"

"I'm sorry," the Professor said, pausing a moment to answer her. "I didn't realize Ginger had chores to do."

"Well, it would have been helpful," Mary Ann sighed, walking back to her hut. She was exhausted. She also had to admit she was a bit jealous that the Professor had decided to draw Ginger, but she didn't want to cause a fuss. Clearly, he was more interested in gazing at her all day. Maybe he was in love with Ginger. Mary Ann tried not to think about that.

"I say, Professor! I had no idea you possessed these skills," Mr. Howell said, looking over the Professor's shoulder. He raised his eyebrows. "That is an incredible likeness of Ginger! I must hire you on commission for a painting of my wife and me. How's, say, $50,000?"

The Professor looked up at Ginger and winced. "Ginger, I told you to sit as still as possible. You've moved your head! Tilt it back to the left…great, right there."

Mr. Howell persisted in bothering the Professor about a painting, until the Professor finally put down his charcoal bit.

"Alright, Mr. Howell, I'll do your portrait when I'm finished with Ginger's drawing." Within five more minutes he had it finished. Ginger leapt up and squealed in delight when the Professor completed the portrait. She held it up and showed everyone, with a huge grin on her face.

"It's beautiful, Professor! I'll treasure it forever! I'll put it in the frame that usually has my picture of Rock Hudson!" She swooped down and kissed him on the cheek. He smiled politely and got up to stretch.

"Shall we just arrange ourselves?" asked Mr. Howell.

"I need a break," the Professor said, cracking his knuckles. It had been some time since he drew people from life. He admitted he enjoyed the practice. Ginger was certainly a good model, for the most part, but he didn't feel particularly inspired. "How about some caricatures?"

"Oh, how darling!" Mrs. Howell exclaimed. "Just like in Sardi's, dear!"

"How very droll. Yes, caricatures!" Mr. Howell said.

"In a bit," the Professor said, standing up. His back was sore, and he was running out of charcoal pieces. He walked over to the bonfire area and picked out some more as the Skipper and Gilligan came by. They all decided to pile together and have their pictures drawn as cartoons.

-o0o-

"Mary Ann! Look at the beautiful drawing the Professor did of me! I am his muse!"

Mary Ann glanced over at the completed portrait. It was a nice, if posed drawing, and Ginger lovingly took out Rock Hudson's photo and replaced it.

Mary Ann felt a pang of envy as Ginger told her all about "discovering" the Professor's talent when she was cleaning his hut. She also mentioned the plot of the movie she was in. Mary Ann took note of her roommate's body language as she talked about the Professor's drawing session, and came to the conclusion that she should just give up her secret fancies. There was no way the Professor could ever be interested in a silly farm girl; that she could ever compare to Ginger's beauty and sophistication. She got very quiet and continued arranging the flowers on her little side table.

-o0o-

The Professor had finished the caricature of the Howells, Skipper and Gilligan, which they all loved, and with $50,000 stuffed in his front pocket, the Professor headed back to his hut. He sat at the table and examined the experiment.

Drat, he had waited too long. It was spoiled. Ah, well, back to the drawing board. He chuckled a little at his stupid joke.

It had been nice drawing again – he had fun with everyone and it was a nice change of pace. He liked being creative every so often.

Feeling a bit fatigued at using a part of his brain he hadn't used in some time, he lay down on his cot for a short nap.

-o0o-

A little while later, he woke to hear singing outside: off-key and with the wrong words. Definitely Mary Ann, picking berries near the clearing. He got up and stretched, walking over to his window. She was wearing her pretty red gingham dress and had her hair tied up in loose tendrils falling over her face. She looked exquisite. His heart skipped a beat, just as it always did when she was near.

He walked outside to "examine the weather," and said hello to her.

"Oh, it's you," she grumbled, a dark cloud passing over her face. She snatched up the basket and started walking briskly back to her hut without saying much more. She felt her face get hot as she walked away from him, wishing she had actually talked to him instead of snapping at him, but she was still worked up from Ginger's bragging earlier.

Just then she nearly smacked into Gilligan, who was coming up the path holding one of his comic books.

"Oh, sorry, Mary Ann."

"OH! GET OUT OF MY WAY!" she barked, stomping down the path. Gilligan shrugged.

The Professor stood there, confused and hurt. Gilligan noticed the Professor scowling in thought, watching Mary Ann walk down the path.

"Hi, Professor," he said cheerfully. "What's going on? Why's Mary Ann so sore at you?"

"Oh, nothing," the Professor replied, trying to clear his head, which had suddenly been awash with thoughts of Mary Ann.

Gilligan looked at the Professor, cocking his head.

"You like her, don't you?"

The Professor looked up, startled by this assessment.

"I…whatever do you mean?" he asked.

"Mary Ann," Gilligan said casually. "You look at her like Skinny Mulligan used to look at Dizzy Edmonds. Dizzy was a girl, and she was real good at blowing bubblegum –"

"I have NEVER shown the slightest romantic interest in Mary Ann!" the Professor protested.

"Shown, maybe, but that doesn't mean you don't feel that way." Gilligan took a banana from his pocket and casually peeled it. He offered the Professor half, and the Professor declined politely. "I like someone on the island too, and I have no idea how she really feels about me, and I don't want to get hurt."

The Professor stood there dumbfounded. All this time he had been carefully keeping his feelings for Mary Ann close to the vest, and in ten seconds flat Gilligan, of all people, had weaseled out his most guarded emotions. In this realm, they were more alike than he suspected.

The Professor began to duck back inside, but Gilligan took his arm. "Look, Professor, I don't want to get in the middle of anything, but I can see plain as day how you feel about Mary Ann. An idiot could see that."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you two felt that way about each other," the Professor rambled. "I don't mean to interfere. Oh, I was afraid of this."

"Afraid of what? Me and Mary Ann?" Gilligan started laughing. "Professor, no, you got it all wrong. Mary Ann's like a sister to me. She tried kissing me a few times and I finally told her I wasn't interested. She got the hint. You mean, you thought?" The Professor nodded, which prompted more peals of laughter. "Naw, Professor, it's not like that. She's a great girl, but not my type."

"I see," the Professor said, feeling his hands quivering, still processing that someone had figured out his secret.

"In fact," Gilligan continued, "I think she's sweet on you."

The Professor protested, but Gilligan continued slyly. "No, I've seen the way she watches you at dinner. And I see the looks you give each other, and how you once said she was the most beautiful woman in the world. I remember that, and how much you stood up for her."

The Professor finally nodded. "Alright, Gilligan, you're right," he relented. "I don't know what to do."

Gilligan grinned. "I don't know, give her a present or something."

He walked off into the jungle, comic book in hand.

The Professor went back inside. He thought for a moment about how to go about doing this. Then an idea hit him. He picked up some of his charcoal and set out to draw something else.

-o0o-

Mary Ann returned to the hut, tired and grouchy. She had taken a cold shower, which was nice, and she was currently toweling her hair. She looked at her bed and noticed something was on the pillow – a piece of paper.

She picked it up and caught her breath. There was a lovely portrait of her picking berries and singing. A little note fluttered to her feet. She picked it up.

"Mary Ann,

I like to draw what inspires me. I hope you aren't too angry about earlier. I will make it up to you by cooking dinner tomorrow. I thought you should have a portrait that captures the real you.

Love,

R.H."

Mary Ann stared at the signature. Love. Love? She had gotten a million notes from the Professor before, but he had never signed anything "love." She tried not to make too much of it, but for the Professor to write anything like that was a big deal. She ran up the path to the Professor's hut.

"Hello, Mary Ann," he said, startled, as she knocked on his door.

"Hi," she said shyly. "I…I came to apologize," she said, looking down at the ground. "I shouldn't have been so rude to you."

"Think nothing of it," the Professor began, but she cut him off.

"No, I was rude. I had a bad day because Ginger left me with a bunch to do on my own, and I shouldn't have been such a creep. I got your drawing."

"Oh, good," he said airily, trying desperately not to seem anxious about her reaction. It was so silly to be frightened of Mary Ann, when one thought about it. He supposed he wasn't frightened of her so much as frightened of showing the slightest romantic interest at all about anyone.

Mary Ann sat next to him. "It was so beautiful, Professor. I didn't think you'd be interested in drawing me. After Ginger showed off her portrait this afternoon, well, I…"

"Mary Ann, there's a difference there. Ginger asked me to draw her. I chose to draw you."

"Why?" she asked. "I'm not as famous as her or Mrs. Howell."

"Because…" the Professor faltered, not sure how to articulate his feelings. "Because I wanted to make you happy." He immediately regretted putting it that way, worrying that Mary Ann might take it the wrong way, but she gently put her hand on his arm to reassure him.

"I love it," she said. "I'll treasure it always. It comes from the heart, doesn't it?"

"Mary Ann," he said, unable to say what he felt, but instead enveloping her in his arms and kissing her passionately. Finally, with a contented sigh, she rested her head against his chest for a moment, savouring the unfamiliar but pleasant sensation of being held. His hand reached up and stroked her pretty brunette hair.

"Yes, it does. It comes from the heart," he answered, feeling his own nearly about to pound its way out of his chest.


End file.
